Pam Robinson has been dressing seductively in heels, bustier, stockings, garters, crotchless panties, dark hose, studded collars and arm bands for her husband the last two years, and in regular lingerie all their marriage. She had always loved to fuck, demanding it more than once per week, John enjoying the fruits of her appetite for cock.
John would joke she was the living embodiment of
Ludacris's
song
Nasty Girl
- "Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets" or
Usher's
Yeah!
- "Lady in the street but a freak in the bed."
That digression and separation severed them both well as community leaders and professionals - Pam an award winning elementary teacher and John a long time firefighter, now one of three assistant chiefs at a large suburban fire station. Neither had stepped out with an affair, and other than some flirting at the bars, or at work, their eyes hadn't strayed far.
They satisfied each other keeping it spicy in bed, through almost 30 years of marriage having and raising four kids and being visible in the community. Now empty nesters with kids were in late stages of college, with jobs or living independently and one married with a grandchild on the way, they were beginning to branch out more sexually.
Her body a fit 5'6", sleek 120 lbs., with long beautiful legs that proportionally melted into her thin waist, flat stomach, nice shoulders, a long lovely face, brown shoulder length hair, great smile and a modest 32a bust. John loved her shape, often joked her nipples were her 'freak controls' and sent her into a frenzy when rubbed, pinched or even bitten.
Two weeks
ago, on a milestone birthday trip together, John said, "I've never wanted you to get a boob job," laying beside her spent, having satisfied her a fourth time that day celebrating her 50th and his 60th birthday in Nashville. "I love the size and their sensitivity."
They flew United, spent the weekend on Broadway, drinking, dancing and fucking, having a VRBO close by to indulge (or rest) their bodies while taking short breaks. She loved her gin and tonics (G&Ts), fueling the passion that would have her push John onto the couch and drop her mouth on his cock or dancing against his crotch for a hour making him wait for his climax.
Naughty country girl was the look Pam perfected that weekend, her braless, low cut sleeveless concert Ts and short shorts, bangles and large feathered earrings, cowgirl hat were all deliciously coordinated.
That night in Kid Rock's bar on Broadway they met and chatted with a large, athletic 'Cowboy' who Pam rubbed up on, flirted with, danced closely to and let steal a kiss in the hall by the bathrooms, telling John immediately.
Many nights, usually after hot sex, they were open to chat about each other's sexual thoughts and THAT night at 2 a.m., with an 9 a.m. flight looming, she brought up a familiar fantasy.
The conversation started after John was fucking her from behind, came to the cries of Pam's climax, collapsed on the bed, and she rolled onto his strong chest obviously with the 'Cowboy' still on her brain.
"We've talked about another man before," Pam said immediately, her breathing still elevated, watching John's cock flop out on the bed sheet. "Is it time?"
"Dunno," John said, a small amount cum trickled out on his side the bed, a competition they would have while switching positions.
"Ha! You get the wet spot!" was Pam's patented victory cry.
"Not that there's much left after last night and today!" John acknowledge the shear # of orgasms he'd had to dole out, faking a couple.
"If it is time, I'd prefer a darker skin tone if you know what I mean. I brushed in between 'Cowboy''s legs and felt he wasn't really packing much." Pam said starkly.
